Sir Tristram.
Look at him! Lively as a cricket!
The Dean.
Sir Tristram, I am under the impression that your horse swallowed reluctantly a small portion of that bolus last night before I was surprised and removed.
Sir Tristram.
By the bye, I am expecting the analysis of that concoction every minute.
The Dean.
Spare yourself the trouble—the secret is with me. I seek no acknowledgment from either of you, but in your moment of deplorable triumph remember with gratitude the little volume of “The Horse and its Ailments” and the prosaic name of its humane author—John Cox.
[He goes out through the Library.
Georgiana.